


Perfect

by TheSecondMouse



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Bruce Wayne's A+ Parenting, Child Abuse, Female Tim Drake, Gen, Hurt Tim Drake, Janet Drake's A+ Parenting, Tim Drake-centric
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-01
Updated: 2020-11-01
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:07:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27216898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSecondMouse/pseuds/TheSecondMouse
Summary: Timothea Drake was perfect.Thea Drake was funny and friends with everyone.And Alvin was Robin, though Tim had to deal with the bruises.All of them are tired.Or in which Tim is a girl and it doesn't make things easier at all.
Comments: 16
Kudos: 133





	Perfect

Jake and Janet Drake had very high expectations of Tim.

In the universe were Timothea was born, they were even higher.

Janet was too capable to ever think that her daughter couldn't take over the business because of her gender, but she had had to fight hard to be acknowledged and respected.

So instead of "only" demanding perfect grades and polite manners from her child, she invested some time into showing Timothea how to manipulate, how to analyse people and explained how the business world worked. After every gala Janet asked for reports. How had Timothea behaved, why did she behave that way, how did other people do, why did they do that and not something else, how did they react to her and was that the best result?

Janet wasn't more affectionate with her daughter, though she was more involved.

When they were gone (perhaps a few weeks less than what might have been, but still months and months and months) Timothea was expected to study their business as well as every important company, their rivals and those in Gotham.

"If you don't do well" her mother had once said "the sharks will eat you alive. And nothing but a drop of blood will remain."

She might have still had a lot of free time without friends or family to occupy herself with, but at one charity event when Timothea was three, a man with whom her parents were hoping to conclude negotiations asked them if she was getting dance lessons. He expanded on the importance of starting early with such things and the value of the skill.

Later she overheard her father saying that being able to dance, play an instrument, speak multiple languages, perhaps do gymnastics or being able to cook or embroider were traditionally part of being a well-educated lady.

Her mother wasn't too pleased with that statement but still thought this would eliminate possible flaws someone could have criticized. Additionally connections could be made if she attended the right classes.

"She could practice how to charm children her own age. I suppose gymnastics will do. For the rest we will employ tutors."

"As you wish, darling."

No tutor stayed longer than three years. "They were supposed to teach you the basis or the form of every subjet. We have talked about it and decided that you are now old enough to take responsibility for your own training. You know what mistakes you make while dancing, the compositions you learn on the piano get progressively more difficult but theoretically you know what to do in both cases. You can read books, watch films and learn vocabulary to improve your languages. You have instructions on how to improve your cooking as well as your embroidery and sewing. Manners are just something you will have to maintain. After a year or so we will hire trainers on a temporary basis to evaluate where there is still room for improvement. As for the rest...

We are _trusting_ you to keep up the standards of your training."

Timothea smiled. "I will not disappoint you mother, father."

"Of course you won't. You're a Drake, after all."

When she turned nine she figured out who Batman was.

Her trainers had impressed the consequences of too little sleep or too little food on her.

She had no time to go out. She really wished she could. But her mother would find out if her training suffered. There was no excuse for that.

She stayed inside.

She started to learn hacking, though. Perhaps she could see them through the cameras...?

When she was ten her mother hired a stylist.

"Your appearance is important. As a young lady more than as a child. Since you have to be able to do your make-up and choose your ensemble yourself you will learn to do it professionally. Your new teacher will be there on Monday. Do you have any questions Timothea?"

"No, mother."

"Naturally I will control your progress when I get home."

"I will be prepared, mother."

"Good."

She didn't like make-up or wearing her hair open. When Janet came home she smiled and told her she looked as would be expected from the Drake heir. She seemed proud.

The next time her parents came home she made sure to look the same.

Once on a small gala with her parents a man insulted her and got too close to Tim and she raised her voice and told him to go to away.

Janet noticed. She tore the man to shreads, before quietly telling Timothea that they would go home now.

When they had arrived, Janet closed the door. The slap that followed echoed through the entrance hall. Then she grabbed Tim's arm and maneuvered them to the living room. "Tell me what you did wrong. I hope you know that at least."

"I..." She took a deep breath as her voice broke. "I shouldn't have shouted at the gala."

"Yes, you shouldn't have."

There was a pause, but Tim couldn't think of anything else to say.

"You should have been able to tear him apart, dear. I have fixed your mistakes as far as possible and luckily it was only a small gathering" Janet sighed "but we will have to fix those deficiencies nonetheless. We will start now. Try to pinpoint the weaknesses of me and my statements, use them against me and deflect attacks on yourself. And stop crying, for God's sake. Are you so weak that you can't control yourself?

Well, answer me. Deflect the attack. I said training starts now."

With a red bruise in the form of a handprint blooming on her cheek and her voice still not clear, Timothea said "Are you so insecure that you can not afford to show your emotions?"

"Well, darling, I chose to behave in a certain way. Did you?"

Tim didn't know what to say.

"According to your lack of a retort, you didn't." Janet smiled condescendingly. "I suppose it's your age. _Children_ just aren't fit to be included in social events of a serious sort."

"I'm not a child!"

Timothea didn't even notice Janet reaching out before her head snapped to the right side. The other cheek this time.

"And outburst like that is unacceptable. Haven't you heard anything of what I just said?!" She huffed. "I can see that you need more guidance. Not only haven't you listened to me, you have forgotten your manners. I will have to think about what to do and speak with your father about this. For now you will go to your room. Do use your time sensibly, will you? And Timothea? Next time tell me that you need to learn something before you embarrass us."

They stayed for a week. Janet surpervised her every action and at the end of it she said that at least she hadn't fallen back in the other areas of her education. She hired a governess who, since she was chosen by Janet, ressembled her mother in temperament.

The governess stayed for a month, after which Timothea could hold her ground in a battle of scathing insults against her mother and in which she got used to crying each day and hiding her crying each day.

She perfected the mask of Timothea Drake, sweet, polite and vicious heiress of Drake Industries.

Her parents were away for long times and the tutors were temporary at best. The house was to quiet, so she left the TV on. Her parents didn't care about any bills unless they were truely outrageous.

She saw Batman and Robin (Bruce Wayne and now Jason Todd instead of Richard Grayson) and wondered how it would feel to fly.

As she grew older her timetable beame less harsh. Of course she still had to keep her skills sharp and keep herself informed about the business world but she it took less time than to learn something new.

And she wanted _out._

She bought herself a camera and a laptop. Then, after researching she bought dark but not black clothes, a backpack and pepper spray. (This _was_ Gotham)

And then she snuck out of the house. Well, walked out of the front door, since nobody cared where she was. Sneaking out sounded better.

When Jason Todd died, she wrote her mother an email asking about how to handle blackmail.

"Try to get what you want without it first. People are more cooperative when they don't see themselves cornered. If you have to, use it subtly conditional on the fact that you think the other person will understand the threat nonetheless. Have a concrete plan to make your threat come true, ensure that the material can't be removed and try not to give them an opportunity to kill you and remove the threat that way. Make sure they know that it won't get them anything to hurt you.

If you get blackmailed, you should have already collected something to hold over their head. Remove the threat as soon as possible one way or another. Do not do anything that could be used as blackmail material. Out the attempted blackmailer, release the information yourself if necessary. At least you can control the way the information is presented that way.

In both cases you should have a plan for every possibility."

So Timothea first sent an anonymous email to Richard. He did not come back. She prepared an email with photos and the revealment of their identities, set a timer that could only be stopped with a password from her computer that she locked into the hidden safe in the basement. She made a photo of the timer. Then she disguised herself as a boy and street kid and confronted Richard in a _public_ location.

She didn't see a reason to show him the photograph. The knowledge of their identities had been implied and the threat was not good enough to make him work with Batman or at least not good enough to help Batman.

So Plan B.

Blackmail Batman into giving Robin to you.

First, she would have to decide whether to reveal her identity or her gender. On the one hand all previous Robins had been male, Mr. Wayne might be more likely to accept a boy. On the other it would create some trust between them and Batman might find out in any case.

Bruce Wayne had just lost a son though. And since he hadn't picked up a new child he probably did not want to replace Jason, endanger another child or leave himself vulnerable again. Keeping distance between them might not be such a bad idea.

Besides, if she hid her identity he would not be able to use it against her.

Bruce did not recognize her, but of course later he investigated. His research revealed Alvin, a boy with a dead mother and mostly absent father and rather unremarkable besides that. He let the child keep his silence when his careful attempts to approach the Alvin's identity were deflected. Still, perhaps one day, the boy would trust him enough to tell him. Despite the _unfortunate_ beginning of their aquaintance he could see that Alvin was lonely and that the child did try to help him.

They were good partners.

He only saw the kid in mask. Even before he had given in and made one for him, Alvin had his own plus a hoodie. This new Robin always had a plan. It was...calming. That didn't mean his training wasn't as expansive as Bruce could make it without obviously stalling, of course, but it helped.

This wasn't quite his kid, but it was definitly a child and he would not allow another Robin to die.

Alvin could break almost any kind of restraint and any lock in under three seconds.

He had six emergency buttons and twenty lockpicks.

After Bruce had taught him everything he could and he was allowed to patrol (only with Batman, but still) the role of Robin changed once more. Alvin made jokes, but they were drier and thick with sarcasm. He distracted criminals and helped the victims as all Robins had done. He fought as dirty as Jason, but his style was more similar to Dick's, although it was less elaborate. His moves were more calculated. He was better than any of his children with the detective part of the job.

After every night Batman sent him home.

Timothea had taken to keeping first-aid kits everywhere.

She had been exhausted when Batman was training her, making things as hard as possible for her, seemingly wanting her to give up, but that was nothing to what she felt like after patrol.

After she was sent home she would sneak back to Drake manor careful not to let Oracle or Batman see, patched herself up and then collapsed into bed.

The next morning she made herself breakfast, stretched, took the bus to school and did some homework on the way. In English she only listened with half an ear and wrote down the most important things while looking at the dates she had to memorize for history. On the way home she learned Russian vocabulary. She made herself lunch while listening to videos on first-aid. She ate while looking at the case files. She packed the rest of the food into three boxes. Then she practiced dancing, put one of them into her backpack and took to the bus to her gymnastic class and did some more homework on the way. She "socialized", she was Thea. Happy, full of energy and friends with everyone. She was so glad none of the girls there were at her school.

When she was at Drake manor again, she did a listening comprehension in French while timing herself escaping from shackles she had "liberated" from the Batcave.

She knew what happend to Jason and she had to be able to free herself while or after being tortured. Doing it while trying to pay attention to the CD was something that should be easy.

It was not, but it would be.

She looked at reports of Drake Industries, Wayne Industries, Lexcorps and Queens before sleeping.

When she woke up she put on a hoodie snuck out and into an empty warehouse downtown, changed into her costume and went to the Batcave.

Then it would start all over again, although her homework and other tasks changed.

Bruce Wayne still called her Jason, still berated every mistake and explained each time why exactely she would have gotten herself killed. During the scolding she would have to do the exercise again and again. The progress would be interrupted with "Wrong. Start again." Very helpful that.

Her mother would approve of her increasing self-control and restraint.

Her skill in applying make-up was growing too.

She was glad for the mask.

She got used to Robin, though.

Once she had to provoke Ivy. She told her that she fought like a girl in her most condescending voice. It was hilarious.

Then, someday, Dick came home.

He told her that she was family now and that he was glad to her as his little brother.

For a moment she didn't know what to say. Nightwing saw her as family? Wanted her to be family?

Speechlessness was unacceptable.

She smiled a little. "I have parents, you know. And B doesn't really see me as his son. But I appreciate the sentiment."

He tried to hug her, she evaded. She was not comfortable with strangers touching her. Or anyone touching her really.

Dick looked disappointed. She kept her distance nonetheless. And made plans for a new uniform that would hide her stature when she would inevitably go through puberty.

Getting a voice modulator couldn't be that hard, right?

She started to transfer money from her parents' onto a seperate bank account in irregular intervals and through other changing ones. A few times she changed an amount into cash and then deposited a part of it again.

You never know when something like that would come in handy.

She saw Catwoman sucessfully flirting with Batman to get away (and because the thief enjoyed it). For the next weeks she tried to keep an eye on Selina Kyle.

An alarm pinged on an afternoon in summer.

She went without disguising herself.

The café was quite nice. "Hello, Miss Kyle."

The woman, as elegant as always raised an eyebrow. "Do I know you?"

"No, miss. I wish to learn from you, though."

"Really now. Why should I teach you?"

"I suppose I could hire you."

"Mm. Alright. We will start tomorrow. A smart kitten like you will figure out where to come to, I'm sure."

She did.

Life was looking up.

Then Jason came back.


End file.
